Chapter 9

"It was a Wednesday," Sarah began. "It was three weeks before Thanksgiving. Your dad and I were going to cook at your house and we'd talked earlier about the menu. I called your mom around 7:30 to tell her something. I don't even remember what it was, but when we hung up, I said, 'See you tomorrow,' and she said, 'Good night, Sissy.'

"So I finished the night, and went to bed, and just after midnight the phone rang. It was the police, and they told me there'd been a fire and I should get to the hospital. They wouldn't tell me anything. I didn't know if any of you were hurt or not."

November 2, 1983

Sarah sprinted into the emergency room and grabbed the first nurse she saw. "There was a fire," she panted. "John and Mary Winchester."

"Miss?"

Sarah turned. There was a fireman behind her. He was tall, wet and sooty, and as she stared at him, he removed his helmet. "I'm David Henry, the fire marshall. Are you related to the Winchesters?"

"Sarah Campbell," she answered. "Mrs. Winchester's sister. Are they all right? They have two sons – where are the boys?"

"The boys are in the waiting room with a nurse. Your brother-in-law is being treated for smoke inhalation." The firefighter hesitated for a beat, and Sarah closed her eyes, shaking her head as he continued quietly, "I am very sorry, but Mrs. Winchester didn't make it out of the house."

She felt his hand under her elbow as her knees buckled, and he guided her to a chair. She folded in half and tried to obey the calm voice above her telling her to breathe, but all she could hear was her sister's voice.

Are you going to sleep here the night before Thanksgiving? … John said he'd make the turkey if you did Gran's stuffing, you know I can't cook for crap. … Santa is going to bring Dean a Hot Wheels garage, he's going to lose his mind … Shh, Sammy, I'm talking to Auntie on the phone … Can you believe this beautiful boy is six months old already?

Sarah snapped her head up. "I want to see my nephews."

David Henry nodded and led her to a small waiting area. "The doctors want to assess them, but the little guy won't let go of the baby," he said. "Every time we come near him, he just says 'nope nope nope' and turns away from us."

"I can get them," Sarah whispered. She took a moment to scrub her hands over her face and take a deep breath before stepping into the room.

Dean had Sam in his lap. Sarah sat next to him; Dean started to turn away, but when he realized who it was, he leaned into her. Sarah wrapped her arms around them both. They smelled like smoke and fear.

"Hey, my sweethearts," she said hoarsely. "Are you both okay?"

Dean nodded against her side and started to cry. "Auntie. The house got burned. I don't know where Daddy went. That lady kept trying to take Sammy." Dean poked his head out from under Sarah's arm to give the nurse a murderous look.

"She just wants to make sure you didn't breathe in too much smoke," Sarah quieted him. "The doctor wants to look at Sam, and at you, that's all. Can I take him? We'll go with him. We'll all stay together. Is that all right?"

Dean hesitated the briefest of seconds before shifting to hand his brother to his aunt. The baby stirred and opened his eyes briefly. Sarah kissed his forehead. "Hey, Sammy-Doodles. Back to sleep with you." Sam gave her a small toothless smile even as his eyes were closing.

"There we go." The nurse stood up and Sarah handed Sam to her. Dean gave a little gasp and Sarah leaned down and picked him up. "Shh. We're going right with them, see? I won't leave you, and we won't leave Sam. That's how it's going to work."

"Okay, Auntie." Dean snaked a small arm around her neck and laid his head on her shoulder. "But then we have to go back to get Mommy. She's still at the fire."

"You're Auntie's brave boy, Deanster," she choked out, and couldn't say anymore.

They were back in the waiting room when John appeared. Sam was asleep in Sarah's arms, but Dean had been alert since being cleared by the doctor, peppering his aunt with questions. He shot out of his chair to his father, and Sarah watched as John knelt, looked Dean in the eye, and quietly shattered his heart. Dean's howl woke Sam, who howled in unison.

Sarah couldn't move. She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe both Sam and herself. "I will make sure you remember every single thing about her," she whispered fiercely.

Present Day

"You came home with me," Sarah continued quietly. Her voice was steady, though tears were streaking her face. Sam's eyes were damp; Dean was staring at a spot on the floor, not seeming to notice that at some point, Sam's fingers had closed around his sleeve. "We put you guys in my bed, and your father and I drank a pint of whiskey.

"We completely missed Thanksgiving. I think we had TV dinners. Then it was your mom's birthday, and then –"

"Christmas," Sam said. "That … that must have been horrible."

"We tried so hard," Sarah said. "Dean, you were old enough to realize it was coming, and ask about Santa, so John and I got a tree and presents, and it was so freakin' hard." She gave her oldest nephew a watery smile. "You asked a couple of times if Santa could bring your mom home in his sleigh. You figured if he was flying in the sky, maybe he was close to Heaven."

"Shit."

"Yup. Shit." She sighed, picturing the man beside her as the little boy he had been. "You really did love the Hot Wheels garage. It was a little bit of happy normalcy, watching you play with that thing." She looked at Dean seriously. "Do you remember your fifth birthday?"

"That one specifically?" Dean thought a minute, but all he could come up with was paper hats in random motel rooms. "I don't think so."

"We tried to have a birthday party for you," Sarah said. "You were still staying at my house, and we invited some of kids from your neighborhood. You guys had a fine time, but it was a disaster for the adults. All anyone wanted to talk about was Mary, and the details of the fire, and you poor motherless boys. I think one of the moms actually hit on your dad.

"That was the beginning of the end. A couple of weeks later, your dad settled with the insurance company, put the house on the market, and found an apartment. I wanted you to stay with me, but your dad wanted you guys to have your own place. 'We need to learn to be the Winchester men, Aunt Sarah,' he said." She took a deep breath. "Then in the spring, right after Sam turned one, you disappeared. I didn't know you'd left until the landlord called me, looking for John, because he'd skipped out on the rent."

"He didn't tell you?" Sam asked, stunned.

Sarah wiped at her eyes. "Nope. He sent me postcards every few weeks, like you were on a vacation, mostly like you guys wrote them. Things like, 'Dear Auntie, we saw a deer today, love Dean and Sam.' Every now and then he'd write something about how you were all fine and I shouldn't worry. It was the only way I knew you were alive."

She picked up the picture. "And then, right after Sammy turned two, John called. Completely out of the blue. He said he had business in Lawrence, and he'd meet me if I wanted to see you guys. Until the end, it was a great day."